


Rising

by OmniGamer



Series: Daedric Captivation [6]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24417061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniGamer/pseuds/OmniGamer
Summary: Rowan has cheated death for many years. Eventually, even Sovngarde takes notice of the absence and sends someone to bring the hero back. But, is there more to why the Nordic afterlife is calling him back?
Relationships: Hermaeus Mora/Jyggalag, Lorkhan/Dibella, Lorkhan/Kyne, Lorkhan/Mara, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Hermaeus Mora, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Jyggalag
Series: Daedric Captivation [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/638129
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a project in the making, but I'm about done. Updates on this should be somewhat quick (not the usual months between, but more a few weeks at tops).
> 
> I can't say this is 100% my original idea... as I was very inspired by a somewhat older video by FudgeMuppet and a few other theories floating around the internet.
> 
> First chapter might be a little confusing considering this is still Rowan's story... but it'll piece together in the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Book Cover" by my friend Skit. Check out her other stuff over on her Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/skitamine/

  


" **Toshi,** " Lorkhan returned with a pained smile. It looked far more like a grimace despite the bravado the Aedra threw into the expression.

"I am sorry it had to be like this."

" **It didn't…** " corrected Lorkhan falsely, unconsciously seeding doubt to all that could hear him with his enchanting voice. Akatosh, himself had to pause a few seconds to clear the effect - the others holding the trickster-god taking even longer before their tightened grip returned on Lorkhan's chains. 

_It had to be this way…_ Akatosh had seen it. He had seen the fate awaiting Lorkhan and he regretfully continued to see the fate that still awaited his long-time friend. Akatosh's only wish was that he could bear some of the sufferings that would fall upon Lorkhan. 

But, he couldn't. He couldn't let the others see the weakness he held for Lorkhan. His pity would only bring further punishment.

Lorkhan was led away to the lower levels of the Adamantine Tower, and Akatosh could only clasp his hands tightly behind his back as he watched in somber silence.

* * *

"Lorkhan…" Akatosh said, stepping into a pool of light cast between the bars of the sole window.

The trickster-god could barely raise his head as Akatosh entered.

"They-" Akatosh stopped himself. He had also been part of the discussion. "We have come to a verdict on your final punishment."

Lorkhan's head fell back to his chest. He had used all of his remaining strength to acknowledge Akatosh's presence.

"We are to take your divine spark."

Betrayal lay heavy in Lorkhan's eyes, but he did not appear surprised. _"Will it hurt?"_ he asked with a wry smile, knowing the answer but asking anyway.

"I will try to make it hurt less…"

Silence fell. _"So they convinced you to do the deed,"_ his words indicated an accusation, but there was no such thing in his tone. Lorkhan was simply tired. So tired, that even speaking directly to Akatosh's mind was draining. But, Akatosh could not risk being influenced by Lorkhan's tongue. He would have to keep his fellow god's tongue sealed, and in turn, force him to use whatever magic wasn't already stolen from him by his chains.

"I offered." Akatosh felt he could not hide that fact. He only hoped that Lorkhan would understand. From Lorkhan's eyes, he wasn't sure that Lorkhan had. "Sithis-"

_"I have time, Toshi. I can still control it. I would not lash out at my… executioner."_

Akatosh nodded slowly, but his gaze swept over Lorkhan's deep ebony horns with concern. Lorkhan had time. He had plenty of time. But, without his flesh… and soon his spark, the corruption would be faster, and, soon his friend would be no more than a puppet to Sithis' will.

"I have a plan, Lorkhan."

Lorkhan's eyelids fluttered. He was barely able to remain conscious. _"Oh? Is it something you came up with? Or, did you have some… help?"_

A slight smile tugged at Akatosh's lips before they fell flat again. Akatosh could see each path of fate stretching out before him like many woven threads. Looping and intersecting, some so tightly bound that only by cutting the entire fabric could it be altered. Lorkhan's fate was one such thread. A pitch-black thread. A consuming black thread at the end of the tapestry."I have seen it."

Lorkhan hummed. _"Then it must be good if you're mentioning it."_

Again, the trickster god's words amused Akatosh. He would miss this. Miss the banter between them, and the company Lorkhan's presence brought. They were opposites and equals. 

"I can delay it," he offered. "Hopefully, halt it completely."

It wasn't needed to be said what 'it' was.

_"What's the catch?"_

"I will have to scatter your true soul." His words were not light, and they held a crushing weight in the following silence.

_"Oh…"_ was all Lorkhan could offer.

"You'll be reborn among the mortals. Living as them. Facing all their hardships. I cannot spare you that. But, even Sithis cannot control a broken puppet…"

_"Is that my option? The grand alternative?"_

"Mundus could not be the salvation you had hoped. Destruction still followed you in its creation."

Lorkhan let his head fall once more and his eyes squeezed shut against unshed tears. _"I know… I have failed them…"_ His eyes opened again, their blue-glow dimming slightly.

“Let me help you, Lorkhan.” Akatosh took Lorkhan’s head up in his hands. He set his cool forehead against the burning fever of his opposite. “You do not have to be Sithis’ ‘Doom-Drum’.”

_“Is that why you offered?”_

“Yes.”

_“Then can I ask you to fracture my spark? Two or three pieces would suffice."_

It was Akatosh’s turn to bow his head. With a shattered core, it would take many eons before Lorkhan could risk leaving Mundus. But, Lorkhan would be likely unable to ever leave by the time he healed. Akatosh would be permanently binding Lorkhan to the mortal plane.

"For what purpose?"

_"I'll need something to send Kyne away with. It's only a matter of time before she comes bashing down the doors."_

Akatosh could hear the grin in Lorkhan's words. One full of fondness, and of longing. But, there was something else, something that didn't necessarily pertain to Kyne alone. "And, what of your architect? Of Magnus?"

Lorkhan didn't answer for a while, and Akatosh almost thought his opposite had fallen asleep, exhaustion finally claiming him. But, Lorkhan's voice finally returned. Insistent. _"Do as I ask, and neither will interfere…"_

"As you say… my friend."

* * *

Kyne only had bought herself a few moments with Lorkhan. 

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into his cell. Its oppressive magicks made her shudder. 

In the center of the circular room knelt her husband, bound in heavy chain and some sort of ward she didn't recognize sealing his mouth.

"Lorkhan," she said coming to kneel beside him. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Lorkhan stirred slowly. His eyes fluttered open illuminating the dark space with their vibrant blue glow. Every slight movement seemed to exhaust him. Like every clink of chain was sapping away every ounce of his strength.

She gently cradled his face. "What have they done?"

Gently she peeled back the ward across his face. 

He grinned weakly at her, thankful to regain the ability to talk, no matter how brief. " **Kyne… I need you to do something for me…** "

Kyne glanced back behind her, suddenly worried that someone might intervene despite Akatosh's promise of time alone.

" **Kyne…** " Lorkhan tried again, his voice sounding harsher by the second. " **Please. I'm in no place to ask…** "

"What is it?"

Lorkhan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked ready to expel - like a mortal when they had eaten something particularly unripe. An orb fell from his mouth, an opal colored thing that was nearly the size of her fist. " **I need you to hide that. Somewhere in Aetherius.** "

She felt his magic stirring in her palm as she picked it up, and she stared at him horrified for what it was. For what Lorkhan had done to himself to create it. 

" **Hide it among the mortal afterlives. The others will not pay it much mind if you do so. Use some of it if need be to disguise it as another realm.** "

"But…"

" **I am no fool, Kyne. They will take my spark, as they have taken my body. I can only hide a piece of it without their notice.** "

"They won't… They can't…" Her hands closed around the orb, shutting its light away from the darkness that threatened to swallow it. She tucked it away into the pouch on her side.

Lorkhan didn't acknowledge her protest. " **Make it something beautiful, Kyne. Make it something that our warriors will be happy to call home.** "

She nodded, her eyes already far too dry for any more tears. "I will, Lorkhan. The mortals will tell stories of your realm for them. Of how… Sovngarde waits for them."

“ **Thank-you, Kyne. I love you.** ”

Slowly, she put the ward back in place, sealing that much more of Lorkhan away. She hated herself for doing so, but she must, to help hide their actions there.

"Wait for me, Lorkhan."

Lorkhan only nodded with a silent understanding.

Kyne left quickly then, her mind on her newly granted mission. 

* * *

It was several days after Akatosh's, and consequently Kyne's visit, that the walls seemed to be watching. In fact, the walls were watching - if the swirling blue lines coalescing were any indication. 

Lorkhan would have offered a greeting to his latest guest, but he could no longer find the energy.

The gentle glow of lines pulled to form an imprint, stretching from the bounds of stone to form the Et'Ada before him. Magnus rose before him, stone body swirling with preserved magic.

An ever-present worry sat on his brow. It seemed worse than usual. He bent before Lorkhan, light touches gifting magic. Just enough so Lorkhan could raise his head.

"My lord…"

_"Still… here, Magnus?"_ Lorkhan was surprised. After his architect had discovered the true cost of Lorkhan's project, Lorkhan had expected him to be among the first to leave.

"We haven't left yet… There are a few that wish to witness your punishment."

_So, that was it… "I suppose you are among them, then?"_

Magnus had no answer, or at least an answer he was willing to give. The tip of his serpentine tail twitched, causing slight chimes to ring out.

_"It would be better to leave soon. Mundus' thrall will be much harder to escape later."_

"I cannot leave without you, Lorkhan." His head bowed slightly, the gold of his jewelry catching bare rays of light.

_"I will not run."_

"I have not given you a choice." As easy as he could travel through stone, Magnus reached into Lorkhan's body. 

Lorkhan chuckled at how effortlessly Magnus made it look, but there was no mirth in it. _"There is no choice…"_ he said flatly, as he felt Magnus’ hand searching through him, rifling amongst his soul. 

Magnus' brow furrowed, but it wasn't until his fingers brushed Lorkhan's fractured core, and the large missing fragment, that he understood. Escaping back to Aetheruis would destroy Lorkhan. 

The warm, gentle fingers turned frigid. "You utter fool." Frustration and despair tormented the stoic features of Lorkhan's faithful vassal and… friend.

Lorkhan winced, and Magnus' hand instinctively retreated. Lorkhan's spark remained further unmolested.

"Why?!" he hissed lowly, knowing of what Lorkhan had done. He raised a careful hand and placed it on Lorkhan's shoulder. "Do those mortals mean more to you than us?! More than your own life?! Do you not understand what the others are to do to you?!"

_"I cannot leave."_

"I can fix you and take you with me. Where is the missing-?"

Lorkhan shook his head and smiled behind his muzzle. _"And, I believe you could, Magnus… But, what of those that have sacrificed so much. Mundus would crumble, and I would have let it."_

If only Lorkhan could… talk to him. It would make their parting easier. 

Magnus had regained his composure, but he was still determined. "Where did you hide the missing piece?" Magnus demanded, rising higher on his lower snake half to tower over Lorkhan. His long, pale hair shifted slightly, giving the faint appearance of a cobra's hood.

_"I cannot tell you like this…"_

Magnus' eyes narrowed, their piercing white-hot gaze analyzing his face. They spied the seal on Lorkhan's lips and narrowed to bare slits. "Cannot? Or will not?" 

Lorkhan remained silent. Magnus would know of his ability; Magnus knew of everyone's abilities.

Though whether Magnus was ultimately tempted to release the seal, however temporary, or not, he wasn't given the chance. The cell door rattled announcing the jailor's arrival. 

Magnus slithered back into the stone before he was noticed, casting one last wronged look before his features melded with the wall.

He continued to feel Magnus' betrayed eyes on the back of his head as he was raised to his feet and walked from his cell.

* * *

Kyne had taken too long with her mission. She stood before the doors to Lorkhan's execution chamber, its doors sealed shut. She battered blows against the stone, sharpened blades skittering off its surface with barely a scratch left on it.

"You Bastards!" screamed Kyne eventually at the locked door when her attacks had failed to make it budge.

Akatosh steeled his face as the furious whirlwind flew at him instead.

"Akatosh! You have to stop this madness! Wasn't it enough that they split his flesh! Lorkhan doesn't even have a body anymore! If they take his spark now, he'll… he'll…" Her fury melted to a choked sob, though she refused to cry.

He bore her rage in silence, the pounding of her fists against his chest. Akatosh bore each blow, no matter how painful. No matter how his heart hurt similarly.

_Lorkhan's sacrifice would help to keep the peace. This needed to happen._

Akatosh clasped his hands behind his back as his weathered face remained emotionless.

_This was the only way to ensure Lorkhan's survival…_

"Mara!" she implored the younger god. "Mara, you have to do something. Convince them-"

Mara shook her head, but she did have to touch Akatosh's arm for assurance. She wanted answers that he could not give. Not yet. It was hard to not let her in completely. To not share the grander scheme. But, this was how things had to be. It was how things always were.

Kyne snarled. "Fine! I don't need you!"

"Kynareth," called Akatosh to her back. "The deed has already been done."

The wind whipping up around them suddenly fell flat. "Lies," she said, the low rumble of a storm starting outside. "Lies," the goddess repeated as a bolt of light danced across the sky. A rumble followed it shortly after.

“It’s true.” All three turned to face the visitor. It was Doppijo, or Akatosh supposed, Dibella now. 

She did not want her brothers to know what had become of her. Feeling guilty, Lorkhan had taken her in. Claimed her under his protection and as one of his wives. Love followed after, but it was true. Lorkhan loved everyone. Everything. It was why he had finally agreed to Akatosh's plan.

Dibella hugged herself, the pale yellow of her skin, looking even paler with the storm forming outside. "We are too late."

Kyne stared in disbelief. Her fists opened and closed rapidly, then slowed as if some thought occurred to her. She was likely realizing why Lorkhan had sent her away. And, Akatosh was becoming more and more glad that Lorkhan had the foresight to do so.

The storm continued outside, growing darker and darker by the second. "He told me, he would wait. Why didn't he wait…?" the warrior-goddess sounded… defeated - an odd tone coming from her. 

"He was only allowed to wait for so long, Kynareth." His gaze turned to the window the first droplets of rain smacking against the stained panes of glass. Kyne herself would not cry, but it hardly stopped the storms she controlled.

Her shoulders shook, and she didn't shake off the hands of Mara or Dibella who moved to comfort her, they too, understanding the loss of their shared husband.

Akatosh stood in silence, his eyes continuing to watch the rainfall grow steadily heavier. With what he had done, he felt he was in no place to offer support.

A scream drew Akatosh's head back to the door. He frowned and urged the others aside. 

Something had become attracted to Lorkhan's weakened spirit-flesh. Something Lorkhan could usually keep at bay. Its appearance was far earlier than Akatosh had anticipated, but then again, time did not move as it should in this tower.

With ease, he broke the seal on the doors. He flung them open, only to close them before Kyne could follow. Her protests chased his heels, fading away when it was apparent he wasn't returning.

* * *

Magnus stood in silence as Lorkhan's spark was taken from him. He stood not saying a word as it was shown off like a trophy and fitted to an arrow. All to a jeering crowd.

He watched as its brilliance was fired into the sky to arch and plummet towards the plane Lorkhan had grown to care so much about.

Magnus could only grow to hate his creation. He hated the lives it had taken, and the others left weakened and weakening still. He would be leaving soon. Empty-handed, as his king had out-witted him yet again. Had made it so Magnus could not claim him, nor even his power. Disappointment and betrayal were becoming a familiar taste in his mouth. It was a wretched bile that filled his senses.

Magnus looked upon what remained of Lorkhan with bitterness. All that remained was a shell of the trickster-god, barely different from the mortals he had grown so fond of. It disgusted Magnus, and he hated the comparison.

_If Lorkhan could have been whole… Magnus could have spared him this fate._

As the minutes passed, the crowd slowly dispersed. There was no more entertainment to be had from this event. They would be moving on to the next, as fickle as these gods had become.

Only Lorkhan remained. The pain had rendered him unconscious, and his chest continued to bleed openly. Crimson flooded the floor beneath, spilling in great waves from the empty cavity in his body. Small, blackened, healing tendrils wove through the emptied space, but without an energy source, their work was slow, inefficient to repair the damage dealt. Lorkhan was dying.

_It never should have been like this._

Magnus pulled from the stone floor to stand at his full height beside his disgraced king. "If you had told me…"

Lorkhan didn't stir, but Magnus did not expect it of him. He wouldn't expect such a thing from anyone. Anyone else would have ceased to exist by now.

“Lorkhan…”

Unexpectedly, Lorkhan’s body shuddered. His eyes snapped open, their usual blue-glow shrouded in black. They turned on Magnus and a snarl appeared on the trickster god's face.

Magnus recoiled, unprepared for the god to turn feral on him.

He couldn’t get far. A strong hand with sharpened claws grabbed onto this arm. It yanked him back to a maddened grin on Lorkhan’s face.

A shiver ran up his spine. Magnus could not place his fear, he could only know that it ran deep and stirred his instincts into flight. Yet, Magnus could only stand there frozen, even as Lorkhan’s other hand raised towards his face. Even as Lorkhan’s nails dug into the side of his face and tore his eye from its socket. Magnus’ screams were just barely louder than the maddened roar ripping itself from Lorkhan’s throat. 

Magnus summoned magic to his fingers, throwing back his attacker. His hand rose to his face, blue blood sliding in rivers between his fingers. Magnus' eye clattered between them like a child’s marble, bouncing once, twice. The dark, stone orb, continued to glow with his arcane magicks. The agony was excruciating, and it threatened his consciousness.

_Must Flee. Must Flee. Flee. Flee.FleeFleeFLeEfLEe._ His thoughts screamed at him. An overwhelming barrage slow dissolving into incoherency. Something was wrong. Something was creeping into his mind.

* * *

Akatosh moved between them, his palm hitting Lorkhan in the sternum and knocking the trickster-god back. At his touch, something fled. Repelled, he supposed, by his opposite nature. He lost track of where it went. Lorkhan slumped back to his knees, his puppet strings temporarily cut. “Magnus! Are you alright?!”

Almost hysterical, Magnus was laughing to himself. He clutched at a hole where his eye had been, the orb itself currently missing.

"Magnus?"

It felt wrong. Nay, it felt like what had animated Lorkhan's spirit-flesh. It had not fled completely as Akatosh had first thought. Merely taken a new host, entered through Magnus' fresh injury. It was eating at the other's mind, unable to be fully compatible with another. Left alone, it would likely drive Magnus insane - if he wasn’t already.

Spurred by some threat known only to the serpentine god, Magnus launched a bolt of blinding fire towards Akatosh.

He compressed time around the bolt and accelerated it internally. The magic imploded into itself with a quiet 'wuff'.

Magnus hissed, rising on his tail, looking more and more feral by the second.

"Magnus," said Akatosh with a level tone, trying to calm the other. He was in no mood to lose another this day.

Magnus' remaining black and glowing blue eye flicked from Akatosh to Lorkhan's fading form. A snarl crawled unwelcome onto Magnus' face. "Lies. LiEs. LorKhAn liEd to mE! TriCkEd Me!" His gaze fell to his hands, one soaked with vibrant blue blood. "I hAVe DeSTroyED so mAny of uS!" His hands clenched to fists, his eye shooting back up to Lorkhan, and he raised an accusatory finger. "BecAuSE of HiM!"

Akatosh stepped between Magnus and Lorkhan again, then time shielding Lorkhan with his body. He earned himself an eye narrowing with hatred and confusion. 

"Why do YoU prOTEct him, ANui-EL?" Magnus' expression grew more composed.

Akatosh's eyes widened with surprise, then furrowed to a frown. 

_That name… Was this even still, Magnus?_

"He'S nOt eVeN cOMpLete… YoU woN't Let mE cOmpLetE hiM..."

"Who are you?"

Black spread in winding veins from the open eye socket, the blue blood pouring from it slowly turning onyx.

The thing possessing Magnus grinned far too wide with the other god's face. "i'M suRe yOu aLreAdy KnOw…" it cryptically answered with Magnus' stolen voice. 

It lunged towards Akatosh, claws extended, fangs bared. Fortunately, it would take some time for the fragment to gain full control of Magnus' magic. Time that Akatosh would not, and could not give it.

"I am sorry, Magnus…"

He summoned his moonstone bow, knocking an arrow and rapidly firing. The first shot missed, but the second struck Magnus. The arrow sunk into Magnus' corrupted flesh, igniting the black veins snaking through him.

It was difficult to determine who was screaming. Magnus, or the thing puppeting his body. 

The black veins retreated in the wake of Akatosh's magic, leaving only faint scorches along Magnus' white-marbled flesh. The blue lines that marked his body, glowed briefly, hopefully indicating Magnus regaining control. 

But, unfortunately, not enough.

A bolt of fire twined with ice shot from Magnus' fingertips, catching Akatosh in the shoulder. The ice tore into his body as the fire cauterized the injury, leaving a grotesque smell of seared meat in the air.

Fear. Panic. Confusion. Rage. "YoU tOo, AkAtOsh?" Magnus laughed, sounding almost completely unhinged, but it was his own voice this time. "I shOuLd haVe kNown." Magnus turned and tore into the veils separating the worlds. Wounded as he was, his flesh popped and sizzled, but still, he persisted even as his blackened fingertips wore away to white bone. 

"Magnus! Stop!" 

Maddened as he was, Magnus refused to heed Akatosh's words. He continued, even as Aetherius' touch melted away the flesh that had been touched by the thing's black influence. Magnus escaped, taking the fragment Sithis' chaos with him.

Unable to pursue, Akatosh remained. He was far too weakened from his own contribution to Mundus' creation, and it would take some time to be able to return to Aetherius safely, if at all. He could only hope that someone in the other realms could contrive a way to contain the madness that was sure to follow.

His thoughts turned to a young Prince of Order in Oblivion, and the difficult fate that lay in store for him.

* * *

Kyne was never any good at shape-shifting - Lorkhan was always much better than her - but she would try. Sovngarde needed a ruler, and she could think of no better than the man who would blindly fight at her side. The mortals who followed him closest had called him Shor. It was a fitting name, and one somewhat unknown to the others. 

The thought of the others made her sad. Many were allies she could no longer trust, traitors that turned on Lorkhan as easily as he put his trust in them. Magnus had left without a word and the others who followed him left similarly. Many left small tears in the midnight wash of Mundus' sky, but none could compare to the largest tear left by Magnus.

Sovngarde shared a similar night sky as the mortal realm, but Kyne refused to give it the sun, as the mortals called Magnus' wound on their realm. Magnus betrayed them, just as Akatosh had. She could only trust herself and hope that Lorkhan was still out there.

She took his form. She took Lorkhan's form to rule her husband's realm. A realm that hid the last of his divine spark. A realm that would wait for its true master to return.


	2. Chapter 2

Jyggalag tested the air. Something didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t smell anything.

_ A specter then…? _

Exerting a minute amount of his magic, Jyggalag summoned his greatsword from its slumber. It was one of the few things that would banish a wayward spirit. Permanently.

He found the spirit scouring his armory. "What business do you have here, Phantom?"

The phantom moved slowly, its concept of time askew. "I seek a weapon…" Its vacant eyes fall on Jyggalag and the blade he held in his hand. "Yes… That one…"

Jyggalag's grip tightened around the claymore's handle. "This one is mine."

The specter bobbed its head. "Indeed… Lord Jyggalag. I will return your artifact once my task has concluded."

"Which is…?" His dark eyes narrowed. Not many should know about the sword. Moralove had helped it disappear from history. Any quest this phantom was on, likely had dire consequences.

"I am tasked with returning Lord Shor to his throne."

The specter's answer was unexpected. Out of curiosity, Jyggalag had to further question the spirit. "Does he not already drink in his Hall of Valor?"

"The throne has been empty for many eras. We have done much to protect his realm in his absence, but he must return now. He is needed." 

It held out its hand. It wanted Jyggalag to hand his sword over.

"I have no obligation to you, or to Sovngarde."

Puzzled by his resistance, the specter kept its hand out. "Lord Shor is held in this realm by Daedric magics. I must have the blade."

"Then we are at an impasse."

The specter's hand returned to his side. "Unfortunate. I hold no ill towards you, but I must have the sword." The specter drew his own blade, something ancient yet still honed to a fine edge.

Jyggalag raised his claymore in turn and dashed to close the distance.

* * *

"Jygg?" Rowan hadn't seen the Daedra all day, and for some reason, that worried him. Devilag and Dyus had gone into town, so he couldn't just ask if Jyggalag was busy. He would have to risk whatever wrath could await him for his usual untimely trespassing.

The clang of steel had his nerves set on edge. When it was echoed with another and a recognizable snarl, he ran towards the sound.

Jyggalag was fighting a ghost, one he recognized from Sovngarde, and the Daedra was losing. For starters, his arm was missing, and the claymore the spirit was wielding was stained silver with Jyggalag's blood.

"Jygg!"

"Lord Shor!" the phantom said in kind.

The Daedra turned his gaze. A mistake that proved fatal against his tireless opponent. The ghost stabbed forward and through Jyggalag's throat. 

A slight gurgle and Jyggalag's body fell limp.

"Jygg!!!"

The ghost seemed to look almost apologetic to what he had done, then as he approached he said, "I am sorry, Lord Shor. But, it had to be done. You must return."

Rowan hesitated. His thoughts confused as the phantom raised the blade against him. 

_ Shor?!?! _

* * *

Jyggalag tore his way back to consciousness with a roar. It was bad enough that he had lost to a mere spirit. 

_ But, to have Rowan fighting in his place? While he remained trapped in his realm recovering?!! _

The spirit had gotten its hands on Jyggalag’s sword…  _ With it Rowan could… Rowan would... _

He needed a vessel. Anything that would bring him back to Nirn - his injuries be damned.

Desperate to find anything that could house his soul, the Daedric Prince lashed out to his artifacts, to what shrines would answer as his.

_ Nothing… NoThiNG?!!?! _

He was wasting time. He needed to get back.

“What’s the matter, Foxy? You look in need of a hand… maybe an arm as well. I can-”

Whirling on the fop with a snarl, he was easily thrown back with the barest wave of a hand. With no body, he was nothing but a leaf compared to the idiot. It only further aggravated him. “I do not have tiMe for tHis!”

“Time? But, what is time, truly? Besides, wasn't that why you made Foxy 2.0?"

Jyggalag's animosity lessened. He had forgotten, and to be reminded by the fool was embarrassing. 

With a heavy glare, he sought out the dog's vessel, finding it close enough to be of some use. 

His only hesitation had been for Dyus who had been standing nearby. The man's attachment to the dog could possibly complicate things.

****

His creation's body welcomed him readily, his creation was less accepting of the sudden invasion, however.

_ "What are you doing?!"  _ it screeched in his head. 

He ignored it in favor of Dyus who was staring wide-eyed at him.

"M-Master?"

"I require the dog's body. Do not follow until Moralove says it is safe."

_ "Safe?!?" _

"Safe?" Dyus asked with concern bleeding onto his face.

But, Jyggalag could spare no more time for his chamberlain. He ran.

_ “What did you do to my arm?!” _ his creation shrieked as it took in his condition. It must have noticed that Jyggalag wasn’t using the limb… that Jyggalag couldn’t currently use it. The arm continued to dangle uselessly at his side as he ran.

“I have done nothing. Yet… If you feel so inclined to pester me, perhaps I should tear it from its socket.” He was almost tempted to anyway. The dead weight was a nuisance.

His creation fell quiet, but it didn’t entirely cease its wriggling against his own soul.

_ “You’re not whole…” _ it whispered, horror creeping into its voice.

Jyggalag could only growl, his borrowed lips pulling back into a snarl.

_ “You’re not whole!” _ it repeated.  _ “How in Oblivion do you expect to fight in your condition!?!?! You’re gonna get me killed!” _

“What do you expect me to do!” Jyggalag hissed. “I need a vessel! I do not have the time to make another right now!”

It shifted in his head, scared and irritated.  _ “What could be so important that it can’t wait?” _

One word immediately shut up any further complaints his creation would have. “Rowan.”

* * *

For the first time, Rowan felt his fingers creeping towards his earring. He gripped the pendant and spun it. His dragon half slid forward freely.

It was eager for battle, yet cautious of one who could fell Jyggalag. A part of his consciousness remained, enough to know that the sword in his hand would be preferred to attempting to use his lengthening claws. For now, his horns remained hidden.

"I am honored, Lord Shor, that you would take me seriously," the ghost said.

Rowan twitched at being called Shor. The spirit couldn't be convinced that he wasn't the missing god. "Well… You certainly haven't been going easy on me," he mentioned with a grimace.

If the spirit had heard, it made no comment. Instead, it raised the greatsword in its hands to a ready stance.

Muscles tensing for the slightest hint of an attack, Rowan mimicked the phantom's positioning with his own sword. 

The silence was stifling as neither moved for the longest time. Each watching the other carefully.

Eventually, Rowan’s patience ran thin. He moved, and the spirit moved with him to meet his swinging sword.

Sparks flew where they clashed, the vibration running sharply up Rowan's arm. Rowan grit his teeth and forced his body to bare it. He swung again, ducking the spirit's own retaliative strike. The spector stepped back, and out of the way, abandoning the following stab it had been about to perform.

Rowan wished for his shield. It would have made an easier match against the long reach of the greatsword the spirit was flawlessly wielding. 

His dragon half roared with each continued insult, enhancing his hearing, his vision. He could see clearer, react faster, yet the spector still didn't allow for an opening.

It did, however, notice his draconic side. "Lord Akatosh has blessed you muchly. A shame I will have to exploit it. Forgive me, Lord Shor."

_ Hu-? _

"Joor Zah Frul!"

Rowan didn't so much hear the thu'um as much as he felt it in his bones. His very soul. Rowan's dragon half reared and retreated to escape the Dragonrend shout, leaving a residual paralysis in his joints that frayed his nerves. He nearly fell to his knees, but his sword digging into the floor acted as a quick crutch.

The ghost rushed him to take advantage of his weakness.

With a swear on his breath, Rowan dragged his sword from the wood to catch the spector's blade.

They clashed once more, Rowan forcing himself closer than he would have liked to compensate for his shorter blade. 

However, the phantom was less willing to let Rowan put it at a disadvantage. It drew a breath and let out another Thu'um. "Fus Ro Dah!"

Rowan flew across the room, stopped only by the opposite wall. He coughed, gasping, and choking for air as he tasted blood. He had bitten his tongue.

The specter paid his new injuries no attention, mechanically closing the created distance.

Between his fractured ribs and the Dragonrend shout tearing at his body, Rowan could defend himself no longer. He gazed into the dead eyes of his would-be vanquisher to find no mercy in them.

“We can no longer overlook your absence, Lord Shor.”

"He is mine!" Devilag…  _ Jyggalag…? _ shouted from the doorway. The Daedra charged the spirit, unconcerned with the lack of a weapon. Black claws raked through the air, and the specter was forced to retreat a quick step.

Jyggalag wouldn't let the warrior ghost go. He pushed on, frenzied strikes trying and partially succeeding to tear through ancient armor and spectral flesh.

The ghost seemed almost surprised but moved past it quickly. It treated Jyggalag’s claws soon after as it would a blade. With caution. Dodging where able, blocking where not.

It infuriated the usually calm Daedra. His movements grew wilder and sloppier. 

His chest heaved, and he spat angrily to himself, "I know! But, I need to win!" A first glance would have suggested that Jyggalag was talking to himself. Knowing better, Rowan suspected that he was talking to Devilag.

Feeling renewed by Jyggalag's presence, Rowan rejoined the battle at his side.

"You are tired…" said Jyggalag, barely casting him a glance. He was too hyper-focused forward to offer more than that.

"You're not much better… Devilag." 

Jyggalag flinched, and Rowan knew he was prodding at a sore point for the Daedra. "I was distracted. Stand aside, and it shall not happen again."

Rowan was slightly flabbergasted at Jyggalag's flippant attitude towards his aid when facing off against an enemy that so clearly would best them each one-on-one. "Are you saying you don't want my help?"

Jyggalag spared him a longer glance, his borrowed eyes holding a certain level of distaste. "I have seen your swordsmanship. You would be a hindrance at best with your-" He stopped, interrupted by the spirit charging between them. Jyggalag grabbed Rowan's sword from his hands, and with a kick, knocked Rowan out of the way to block the spirit's swing.

"Jygg!" Rowan shouted, half out of concern and half annoyance that his help was disregarded aside so easily.

Jyggalag broke the stand-still with a forceful sweep of the stolen blade, following it up with a downward strike to the spector's left side. The phantom navigated the greatsword to parry, the enchanted steel drawing sparks against the weaker blade. The Daedra's lips drew to a line thin as he saw something change before he barked a short order at Rowan. "Find me a new blade! This one will not last much longer!"

Rowan would try, but his own collection might be too far. He looked helplessly at Jyggalag. Not wanting to leave, but knowing that he couldn't do anything standing there without a weapon, he turned and yelled "Good luck, Jygg!" Without waiting for an answer he bolted for the exit, dodging the few swings that the spirit aimed his way, Jyggalag intercepting the others that came too close with body and sword.

_ Hang in there, Jygg!  _ Rowan thought hard.

****

Rowan returned too late. Far too late.

The spector straightened and flicked the enchanted greatsword to clear it of silver blood.

Rowan's grip tightened on his sword, but he grew uncertain. It was no secret that Jyggalag was a far more proficient swordsman than Rowan was. The Daedra was meticulous in perfecting his skills.

And, yet…

The shared body of Jyggalag and Devilag lay motionless. Artistically grotesque black metal sprouted in random plumes from the Daedra's form, mangling it further beyond the obvious sword wounds. Beside him lay the sword, broken and useless.

Rowan ground his teeth together.  _ If only he had been faster! _ The thought sat sourly in his mind, even as the spirit's attention drew to him, and the specter advanced.

Exhausted as he was, Rowan raised his blade anyway. He defended himself against the rain of exhaustless blows, one after the other as they battered against his blade. His arms ached just trying to hold on, let alone the countless minuscule adjustments he had to constantly make to parry and block each strike.

Another growl rose up in his throat, it almost transforming into a true roar if the dragon hadn't been re-fettered behind Rowan's earring. He swung out in a fit of blind fury, his steel whistling through the air, finally getting past the spirit's guard, and… nothing. Rowan's sword phased through the apparition, leaving no hint of injury.

Any hope Rowan had, left him in that instant. It left him ill-prepared for the second 'fus ro dah', and his sword was torn from his hand as he was flung across the room.

His eye fell to Jyggalag’s lifeless body, slumped over itself. Throat slashed, arm missing. Rowan’s eye then trailed to Devilag’s broken form - Jyggalag’s second attempt. 

_ So this was it… Rescue wouldn’t be coming for him… unless… No. _

He dismissed the thought as it tried to form again. Rowan knew Mora would come, but Mora was no fighter despite the ancient magic he wielded.  _ If Jyggalag couldn’t… _ His hand didn’t even bother twitching towards the eyepatch covering the shared eye.

“For Sovngarde!” The ghostly warrior raised the sword and stabbed it through.


	3. Chapter 3

Mora was bored - a state he hid well behind his usual meticulous pace - the sudden stabbing pain, however, was not warranted. He howled, startling his nearby Watchers, and reflexively curled towards the source of pain, towards… A ball of dread coiled in his proverbial stomach. 

His tendrils had coiled around the only blue eye in his collection of yellow-green. Around the only blue eye he would ever want in his collection. He had curled protectively around the eye he had taken as payment for Rowan’s immortality.

The fragment of Rowan’s soul had taken a sickly shine.

“Rowaaan!”

He tore through the veil between their realms, and into Rowan’s home.

_ Nothin- _

A heavy scent hit his nose, one he recognized and hated instantly. It was the heavy stench of mortal blood coming from Jyggalag’s mansion. 

Mora wasted no time, tearing another portal to get there even faster. He almost regretted it because the worry had been better than what actually met his many eyes. 

There lay Rowan in the uncanny gloom. His head pinned to the wall behind him by the sword stabbed through his left eye, through Mora’s eye, to shatter their connection, and let Rowan's soul escape back into the beyond.

Shocked, Mora crept forward. 

_ There should be no mortal blade that could have done this… _

He recoiled as soon as he reached out for the sword. It was no mortal blade. It was-

“Jyggalag!” Mora shouted. He wanted an explanation. He want-

It occurred to him then that it hadn’t just been crimson blood splashed about the main hall. Slowly intermingling along the wooden slats, was the faint silver of Jyggalag’s.

That was when he saw the other two bodies. Of Jyggalag’s abandoned lesser vessel, and of…

_ Devilag… _

The poor Daedra’s body was half-formed and badly mangled. Crystals jutted out at odd angles, trying desperately to keep his body together. Metal claws cracking through his fragmented fingers. Mora recognized the armor, or of what had tried to form. Jyggalag had been desperate and had pushed the limits of the borrowed vessel too far.

_ What had happened here?  _

He turned slowly to survey the full extent of the wreckage. It was then that he heard the slow scratching.

Cautiously, Mora approached the door concealing the stable portal to Jyggalag’s realm. He peeled back the sliding door, finding a despondent Jyggalag on the other side, his soul trying desperately to hold together to form some semblance to his lesser vessel.

Like a man possessed, Jyggalag continued to weakly scratch at the natural barrier stopping him from traveling back to Nirn, his spirit form sparking and glitching every time he made contact.

“Jyggy…?”

His eyes turned slowly upward, and Mora was struck by the visible pain on Jyggalag’s usually stoic face. “RoWan… rOwAN neEds…”

"Jyggy…"

"I haVE tO… ROwAn wiLL…"

"Rowan is… Rowan is gone, Jyggy. For now. You can stop. Rest." It hurt far too much to say those words, but Mora needed to. Jyggalag would not stop otherwise, and Mora did not want to lose anyone else today.

Jyggalag's despair was palatable on the air and he offered no resistance as Mora's tendrils tugged him away from the portal. "RoWaN is…?" The words took their time to sink in, and Mora was unprepared for when they fully had. 

Jyggalag's howl tore through his realm, his soul further distorting.

"Jyggy!" cried Mora when it looked like Jyggalag would tear himself apart from grief. "Jyggalag!"

"Pawp!" Sheogorath shouted, doing something which Mora didn't catch that rendered Jyggalag unconscious. "Don't need Foxy yanking so hard… It hurts you know."

Jyggalag's soul once more appeared stable, and Mora could relax. "Sorry, Sheogorath." 

As Jyggalag had been a surrogate link to Oblivion for Milag, Sheogorath had been a secret surrogate to Jyggalag since their misadventure to Jyggalag's island. It would have been impossible to hide the excess draw from the Daedric Prince of Madness forever.

"But, what of Devilag? Was he not banished here as well?"

Sheogorath frowned slightly. "Can't say I've seen Fun Foxy 'round hither… nor thither… nor slither… Coarse, he's not a snake. So you wouldn't expect him to slither. Or is this the one that does? I can't keep track."

"He… does not…" The news that Devilag had not been returned to Jyggalag's realm - nor Sheogorath's - was a little disheartening. It would be difficult to share such knowledge with Dyus. Mora dreaded further having to explain the entire situation to Sven, who was returning on Mora's summon.

"Ah. Well, I suppose you wouldn't have some time for tea? Tea time? Time tea?"

"I'm…" Mora had to take a moment to collect himself. His thoughts were far too scattered, and close proximity to the Daedric Prince of Madness had made it even worse. "I'm going to have to decline… There are a few things I must oversee first."

_ Dyus mainly. His younglings after. And… Sven. _

Sheogorath hummed, his attention already drifting to Jyggalag still lying unconscious. "Foxy won't like being unsymmetrical like that… Maybe I should just lop off the other arm to fix things…?"

Mora had to quickly intervene. "I suspect Jyggalag will make an exception…"

Less certain, the Mad God frowned.

"I am positive of this," Mora hastily assured further.

"Well…" Sheogorath started rubbing the back of his neck. "If you are sure…"

* * *

It took a while before Lorkhan could open his eyes, let alone move. But, when he could, there was an excruciating pain. 

He gasped and twisted, his hands flying up to his eye. 

_ Incomplete… _ And, he likely would remain that way. Mora continued to hold that small fraction of his soul as disconnected as it was. 

His palm pressed lightly against the socket of his… blind eye. He blinked twice and waved his hand across his vision. It faded towards his left side to black. He covered his right eye, and again, saw nothing through his left. Despite him feeling it in his head, it was as if he didn't possess it.

_ An inconvenience, _ he supposed,  _ though it wouldn't hurt to leave Hermaeus Mora the souvenir…  _

Though the sharp agony had already begun to dull to a slight ache, he knew that it would take longer for the pain to subside completely.

With a grunt he turned his focus outward to his surroundings, to the giant stone columns and thick walls. A fire burned in front somewhere, its crackle echoing. Lorkhan smoothed his hand over the throne he sat in. He smiled. Everything was much like Kyne's personal tailorings. Hard stone and hawk motifs decorated tall, sky-reaching pillars. She always hated indoors. 'Too cramped', she would always say. It would make sense for her to have such a high roofed Hall.

His exploring was eventually interrupted by a gruff looking man. "Lord Shor?" he asked tentatively, eyes darting quickly over Lorkhan then to the woven mural behind him.

_ Shor… It had been a while since he was called that name… He supposed Kyne would have used that instead. _

With a dry throat, he replied, "Aye."

"Not… Lorkhan?"

The mention of his true name hung heavy and ominous in the air.

"Who-?" It was then that Lorkhan realized he was alone. That the man had vanished. And, that a stone collar pulled tight around Lorkhan's throat. 

His eyes widened. Lorkhan recognized the twirling blue enchantments laden on the stone. He only knew of one who used such spells.

The enchanted chain it was attached to, pulled tight.

"Magnus!" he howled, hands clamping around the chain to brace himself against the constant reel.

A chuckle echoed his protest. "I am so glad you haven't forgotten me, Lorkhan. But, I do need you to sit for me."

There came a commanding tug, and Lorkhan was yanked backward. His knees clipped against the edge of the throne and he fell into it. The lack of slack around his neck made it impossible to stand again. 

"So how did you find me, Magnus?" he asked loudly to the seemingly empty hall.

"I didn't have to," replied the Et'Ada with almost a confident air. "Your realm sought you out on its own, I simply encouraged it to bring you back. After all, a throne needs its king." Disdain. Contempt. Betrayal. All described the otherwise calm voice.

"Do you still consider me as such?" Lorkhan was remotely surprised, and he paused rubbing at his neck.

Magnus did not answer immediately. His silence though might have very well answered for him, as impossible as the answer was. If Magnus was going to eventually say something, it went interrupted. "Intruder…" Magnus said, sounding as if his interest was momentarily pulled elsewhere. "A… Daedra…" And, then that interest pulled further as if the entire hall vibrated with the Et'Ada's newfound excitement. "Hermaeus Mora…"

Lorkhan's eyes shot wide. He had not thought that he would have been pursued. He had hoped he wouldn't have been pursued. Rowan was no longer, and only disappointment awaited.

_ But… _

"You will not touch him, Magnus…"

A chuckle and a condescending stroke of marble-grey skin against his cheek. He turned and saw naught but the throne. "Since when do you care for those that did not follow you? If they had… maybe…"

_ Maybe not as many would have been lost creating Mundas… The burden spread between many more. _

The thought had occurred to Lorkhan before. It had often led to the discord between the surviving Aedra and their Daedric counterparts.

"Leave him," repeated Lorkhan, his voice gaining its old command. But, it no longer held any power. No longer possessed its enchanting allure. 

"No… I don't think so. This one will be useful."

Lorkhan's hands curled tightly around the arms of his throne. He tried to bend forward. Tried to resist the collar holding him put.

His effort only further amused the Et'Ada. "Well… if you believe you can convince him to leave. He seems rather adamant about finding you."

Lorkhan's brows furrowed. For Magnus to be both here and watching Mora's progress… Magnus had taken his place… nay, Magnus had taken Kyne’s place as master of Sovngarde - Lorkhan a mere investor of its might. “And, if I can’t get him to leave?”

“Well… I suppose your mortals will no longer have to fear the Woodland Man.”

“You-” Lorkhan growled, just as Magnus' presence faded.

The Grand hall doors were thrown open. Mora strolled in, his steps determined and sure. He held himself for once as a true Prince, and Lorkhan almost thought he was someone else. “Where is he?!” demanded the Daedric Prince.

Lorkhan grinned dimly. He knew who Mora was looking for, and who he would not find. “And, who might he be…?” For once Lorkhan hesitated, unsure of what to actually call Mora.

_ Herma Mora. The Woodland Man. Mora…? Was he still allowed to call the Daedric Prince Mora…? _

Mora summoned all of his dark rage, his tendrils corrupting the shadows to twisting monstrosities. All of it expunged when Mora stalked closer, ready to lash out at Lorkhan. 

The Daedra seemed almost pained… hesitant. Especially when he caught Lorkhan's Aedric scent. "Rowan…?"

"Nay… Daedra. Do you not recognize an old… foe?"

Mora's sentry eyes narrow in further recognition. "Shor."


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m coming!” stated Sven adamantly as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her weight shifted from her left foot to her right in that way that said she wasn’t about to change her mind.

Where Mora was going, however… “Wouldn’t you rather stay here with Chichi?”

Her stance softened, her expression growing unsure as she considered Jyggalag - still transparent without his lesser vessel and barely able to hold together in a tangible form. 

Jyggalag caught her staring and looked away, likely wanting to go as well, but finally able to see enough reason to stay. He wouldn't want to influence Sven, regardless.

Sven bit her lip, considering. "Can I help Chichi heal faster if I stay here?" Her strong gaze returned once more to Mora.

Put on the spot, Mora was forced to suddenly decide if he should lie and if Sven would even believe his lie. "It would help heal his heart faster…" Mora eventually answered.

Her grip on her arms weakened further, and instead her hands turned to rub nervously up and down her forearms. "Dad would be better at that…" she said decisively, not looking at Mora.

Mora stared at the young woman. 

_ When had she grown so big? _

But, in that moment Sven looked so small. "Please let me come, Papa…" Her eyes sparkled in that way she learned as a child when she wanted a sweet. Mora was notoriously weak to those eyes.

Mora resisted as long as he could, but his defenses were eventually weakened to the point of breaking. "Fine, but I'm sending you back at the first sign of trouble."

"But, that's exactly when you'll need me the most! I can-!"

"Sven." His voice held a severity even surprising to himself. "I know what you are capable of, and I won't send you away because of that. I will be sending you away if it becomes something  _ I _ can't handle."

"But!"

"Please Sven."

Her lower lip quivered, then her gaze turned away. "Fine."

* * *

Mora had been prepared to tear Sovngarde down to its hallowed core, then disintegrate that to fine sand. What he hadn't been prepared for was to see Rowan- no, Shor sitting once more upon his throne.

It had been many centuries since Mora had last seen the once god-king - as rumored as his death had evidently been. "I see you are alive after all."

"It would appear so."

"Where is Rowan?" he asked, hoping. Hoping his guess was wrong.

Shor patted his chest. "Here… I suppose. But, you already knew that." He smiled and leaned back with a confidence that Rowan never had, despite such a strong likeness in appearance.

Mora's fists tightened at his sides.

"So, how would you plan to separate 'Rowan' from me?"

"I'll untangle him from you…"

"Untangle…?" Shor laughed. "You make it sound like this man is separate. Nay, Daedra. He is me."

"Half of you," Mora corrected. "His Brother must have held the other half of your shattered soul."

Shor's joviality dropped, and Mora wondered how much of it had been forced. "Your point?"

"My point,  _ Shor,  _ is that half of you still remembers. Half of you still feels affection."

"You imply that I still love you…  _ Half _ of me still loves you?" Shor's glowing eye fell back on Mora. "But what of the other half? The half that hates you and your kind for your abandonment?"

Mora paused. When he had last spoken with Rowan's brother… He had not sensed the hostility Shor implied… But, he also had not cared at the time.

"Right now, the most I could possibly feel for you is indifference. You are here on a lost cause. Your Rowan is gon-"

"You know that's not true, Dad!" Sven's voice punched through the Hall's silence.

Everyone took notice of the woman, Shor in particular as a hand curled tightly around the arm of his throne. He seemed particularly shocked to see her, likely not expecting her, and until now, she had been purposefully veiled by Mora. 

"Why did you bring her here, Daedra?" The line of Shor's mouth drew tight. His lips were barely visible. 

"She insisted. I merely obliged her."

"Damnit, Mora!" shouted Shor as he rose from the throne. The clink of metal held the god at bay, and Mora saw why.

There, partially obscured by the fox's pelt, was a link of chain around his neck. The other end had been fixed tightly to the throne.

A sudden yank pulled Shor back into the stone chair.

"A father as well, Lorkhan? You dared to create a family when you have torn mine asunder…" A shadow passed the upper balcony of the Hall.

"Magnus…" Shor growled as he rubbed his raw throat. "You will leave them out of this."

Magnus made no further attempt to reveal himself. Mora hadn't known the Et'Ada to be so shy of his appearance. Magnus was notoriously vain the last time they had met. 

"Oh, but it appears that they very much want to be a part of this. After all, they so clearly ignored your attempt to convince them to leave. Has time tarnished your silver tongue?"

Shor's eyes widened then relaxed. His gaze drifted away as a frown furrowed his brow.

"I've given you your one chance. I have upheld our deal. You have lost."

The Aedra's head shot up. "No-!" Shor suddenly arched back against his throne, his fingers clenching and unclenching as his voice was stolen by a scream. Ghostly manacles materialized to keep his thrashing arms and legs pinned as the throne itself glowed with arcane magic. 

The glow spread forth, winding and twisting up the hallowed Hall. Mora watched in curious rapture until he recognized several of the glyphs. 

Quickly, he ushered a portal open and shoved Sven through before he lost the strength to even do that.

"Papa!" 

The portal snapped closed on her departure, his magic fizzling as the trap began to close.

_ At least Sven would be safe. _

Soon every inch of the Hall was glowing. It was suffocating with his connection to Oblivion suddenly snuffed out. It took all he had just to remain standing.

_ Was this what Jyggy had felt when Mora had done something similar? _

Shor stopped screaming and his body slumped over itself. Mora could see residual spasms still tormenting him. 

The echoing chuckle couldn't have helped. "To think, Lorkhan, that this was where you hid that fragment from me… Hidden so craftily as a realm. You always were one step ahead."

Shor's mouth opened and closed. The ghost of a retort on his breath.

"But, it's not enough, Lorkhan. It's not near enough to fix what you have done. That's where your… friend comes in. He will help me fix evErythiNg."

Shor's teeth clenched, and his restraints flashed red. The Aedra held back another shout as he jerked. Tears dotted the corners of his eyes. 

Whatever he had just tried to do, had failed. Whatever enchantment held the Aedra, was guaranteeing that Shor couldn't even try to manipulate his own realm with his own will.

Mora couldn't even begin to imagine the humiliation, the shame, the Aedra was feeling.

Delicately thin fingers emerged from the stone throne. A marbled hand curled around each of Shor's broad shoulders. Another curled threateningly around his throat and squeezed briefly. A fourth hand gave a condescending pat to the top of Shor's head - far too much like a parent scolding a child. "There will be none of that. I will have you FinAlly behave yourself."

"Go fff… fuck yourself," Shor spat.

A figure pulled from behind Shor's throne. Magnus. His skin, hair, and eye the same grey-white as the stone. The only thing that broke up the monotony of the slate were swirls of blue glowing lines; that, and the horrid gaping mass deforming the right side of his face and upper torso. It was like the right side of him had been melted away.

Magnus grabbed Shor's chin and yanked it up, forcing the Aedra's eyes to the Et'Ada. "You are hardly in any place to give orders, Lorkhan. Not after what you stole from me." Their closeness looked oddly intimate, despite there remaining only hatred between the two. Mangus stroked a hand over Shor's right eye, his own missing and in the hands of the mages of the College of Winterhold - the mages there should be happy to know that they did indeed possess the real thing. "Now givE me the Daedra's mantle."

Shor flinched from Magnus' touch, his eyes darting to Mora to plead with him to run. 

Mora wouldn't run. He would not leave this vestigial remnant of Rowan. He would not leave Rowan. 

_ Never again! _

The Et'Ada angrily tore Shor's gaze from Mora with a shake, forcing the Aedra's eyes once more up to Magnus. "NoW!" commanded Magnus on a demented scream.

The Aedra tried in vain to resist the enchanted hold over him; the flaring crimson shine of his bonds was near-constant now. He screamed until his voice finally gave out, and Shor was left to buck wildly in a desperate, final bid, in rasping silence.

But, there was only so much torture even the once King of the Gods could handle. His head soon hung limply with his defeat and he was panting like an exhausted pull-horse, his thick chest heaving with every breath. 

Magnus released him, grossly satisfied. "Well done, my King…"

The runes decorating the Hall changed - this time swirling a sickening gold.

Mora had seconds to prepare before the magical net descended on him. Golden hooks dug into his spirit flesh, bypassing completely whatever protection his lesser vessel should have been able to provide. Mora's eyes widened as he realized he had even less time to prepare.


	5. Chapter 5

Sven stumbled, then tripped, as the teleportation took her strength. She fell to her armored knees, her fist clenched tight and shaking. Her Dad had been there, but he was lying… forced to lie to protect her… and Papa. But, now he wasn't able to protect Papa. Sven had been given that obligation instead.

She sniffed once, then wiped away tears that had yet to fall. She wasn’t sure who to ask for help. Dyus was currently inconsolable… Uncle Sheogorath was helping Chichi recover… She… didn’t know anyone who could help… 

Unconsciously, her hands clasped together. Sven had never prayed before, she had only seen others in town doing so, and wondered if she could. If someone would hear her small plea to save her family.

It wasn't difficult to find her feet, nor was it difficult to run towards the Temple of Kynareth that lay in its cloud district.

Dad had saved the goddess's Gildergreen tree. Sven figured that meant that Kynareth should at least hear her out.

****

She shoved open the temple's doors with enough force that a few of the healers inside glanced up from their work.

"Whatever is the matter, Child?" asked one of the robed figures. A slightly older woman by the crackle in her voice and the slight stoop in her spine.

The words blurted from Sven's mouth before she thought to stop them. "Dad and Papa are in Sovngarde and I have to help them!" And, realizing her outburst, she repeated, "I have to help them."

With a wizened understanding, the old priestess grabbed her hand, then patted the back of it with a liver-spotted hand. "A loss is hard to take."

Sven wanted to take her hand away at the woman's words. "They're-" she started, "They're not dead…" Sven could feel tears welling up again. Dad and Papa weren't dead… yet. They could very well be already, while she was wasting time.

"Oh, I know, Sweetie. They will live on in your heart." Sven supposed the priestess' words should have been reassuring, and they may have been had Sven been referring to non-immortal parents that could not traverse the realms and survive. "How about we pray. Maybe Kynareth will carry our words to the afterlife. Hmmm?"

Sven squeezed her eyes shut and nodded carefully to not let any tears fall. It had been what she came for in the first place.

The old priestess simply smiled an understanding smile, then tugged her along. 

"Here we are." The woman had tugged her to a spot slightly to the right of the shrine. "Most people would try directly in front of the shrine. But, I find this is the best spot." With that said, the priestess gave her hand one final pat before she tottered off to help someone else.

Sven turned her attention to the iron shrine and clasped her hands together tightly.  _ Please Kynareth. My father helped your Gildergreen tree. Please help him now. He's in Sovngarde and somehow… somehow someone has managed to convince him he's Sho- _

Suddenly all the shutters flapped wildly, slamming against their windows. A gust had buffeted the temple, brought on by a storm. A few of the temple's priestesses let out small sounds of panic as they raced to shut the windows as the rain began to pour in through the forced open windows.

Sven instinctively looked for the old woman, hoping she would be alright in the abrupt clamor only to find her smiling at Sven with a finger raised to her shriveled lips. She mouthed, 'I think she heard you', before setting to calm the few injured that had sought healing.

* * *

Mora lay panting against the stone floor. It hurt. Everything hurt.

He raised his eyes weakly and found Shor staring at him, pained. "Mor… Mora…" he wheezed. Shor's fingers tightened their grips on the stone armrests and he flinched as Magnus gave a condescending pat to his head.

"I know you're tired, my King. But, just a little more. Just one. Last. PuLL."

Shor's following scream was deafening, but Mora had no time to heed it as the enchanted hooks yanked on his mantle, to slowly tear it from his core.

Holding back tears, Mora bit into his cheek.  _ He had to do something! How could he call himself a Prince if he could be trapped so easily! _ He steeled himself and turned his focus inward, directing whatever magic he had into the spirit flesh those golden hooks had dug into. Attacking Sovenguarde's magic had done nothing… but… Mora was desperate. He crudely hacked at himself, a butchering that would, fortunately, go unseen by his tormentor.

Magnus rose above Mora excitedly, the tip of his serpentine tail flicking excitedly. "Finally," the Et'Ada purred, hands reaching out to curl into the conjured net and unaware of why the net was truly beginning to drag… something out. Magnus inspected the blackened orb that had been pulled free, lifting it free of the net to see it closer. A maddened gein claimed his face, spreading too far across it as his jaw unhinged and he swallowed it whole.

For a second nothing happened. It seemed as if Magnus had succeeded by how pleased the Et'Ada seemed. He stretched out his arms, the magical blue of his interlocking tattoos pulsing faintly, then to thrum at a more rapid pace. 

Satisfaction, then confusion, then rage. Magnus twisted onto Mora rising high to tower over him. Multiple arms sprouted from his sides, giving him a more insect appearance than reptilian. His body spasmed and he collapsed, barely managing to brace his fall with several gangly arms. "Bastard!" he hissed through tight teeth. "Bastard!" His body grew more impressive. The massive coil of his tail took up over a quarter of the grand hall as the rest of his body soon took up another. 

The Hall shook and Mora was nearly squashed by the suddenly gigantic and deformed immortal that was charging towards him.

Magnus may have taken a portion of Mora's mantle, but it hadn't been intact. Hadn't been whole enough to wield without consequences. 

As the Et'Ada reached out to likely crush Mora beneath a fist, Mora supposed he should have thought this far out of his plan. He obviously hadn’t, but it was too late now.

"Mora…" bemoaned Shor who was still trying to get free of his throne. "Mo-" His voice cracked and he coughed, the sound horrid, wet, and followed by the Aedra spitting up a wad of bright crimson ichor.

There was nothing the Aedra could do in his current state, even if he was free.

Mora didn't want things to end here. There were far too many things he had yet to see, to learn. He also supposed he hadn't saved Rowan…

"Mor-"

Magnus roared, a large fist rushing down towards Mora.

"You have some explaining, Daedra…" snarled a woman's voice. 

On a rush of azure wings, Mora was plucked from the path of Magnus' crushing blow. He was tossed non-too-lightly aside as his winged rescuer drew several feathers from her hair and wings that solidified into razor-edged weapons. Kyne rushed Magnus in a whirlwind of slashing blades.

"Mara! Get Lorkhan off his lazy ass! The only thing he's good for in that stupid chair is feeding this thing!" Kyne hollered as her blades clashed with Magnus. Magnus howled, his arms rising against the warrior goddess' onslaught to conjure some means of automatic defense.

Shor managed a, "Love you… too… Sweetie," between arduous gasps.

_ Sweetie!? _ Mora couldn't help the twinge of jealousy he felt. It was then that Mora realized not only Kyne had come, but so had Mara and Dibella. All of Shor's wives had been drawn to this place, either by a miracle, or work of happenstance.

But, neither one paid him attention. Each was more concerned with Magnus and the degradation of the realm around them. Mora could feel the magic being stolen from Sovngarde. He could feel its flow from the throne into Lorkhan, then siphoned into Magnus’ bulk. He could also feel the realm struggling to maintain itself as it was so brutally drawn from.

Mara raced past him with barely a glance, rushing to Shor's side. She held his quaking hand, and those brilliantly blue eyes looked at her.

Shor smiled weakly and mouthed something to her, before wincing and pulling away from her grasp in a violent twitch. 

Mara worked quicker then, working the manacles and their enchantment free.

Shor took a moment to rest his forehead against Mara's as she freed him from the last restraint. The action was painfully sweet and twisted something in Mora's gut as he tried to rise from the floor.

"Remind me to kick your stones in when this is over! You thought to outsmart your punishment by looking for your heart? Fuck you, Lorkhan! We thought you did die!" With every second word, Kyne was stabbing her blade forward, weaving and slicing through the wall of living stone that was Magnus' body. "Fuck you and fuck that scaly bastard! How did you even convince Akatosh to scatter your soul across Mundus?"

Dibella held back, her efforts solely focused on maintaining the crumbling realm. She was serenely calm amidst the surrounding chaos, but Mora could tell she had her own pent up frustrations, not to mention her personal conflictions when facing Magnus. 

"Would you… Would you believe it was Toshi's idea?" He was leaning heavily on Mara for support now. His massive frame easily dwarfed hers, yet she carried Shor like he weighed nothing. "It seemed like… like a good idea at the time. Sure beat dying… permanently. I could even be searching everywhere at once for my heart when they… they took it…"

Mara raised her hand over his absent core. An unheard response was made through the connection, and Shor took her hand then kissed it. "Yes… Unfortunately, I… forgot what I was looking for."

"Idiot…" muttered Dibella.

"Mora…" Shor realized when he had regained some of his breath. "Mora, are you alright?!"

The eyes of the other Aedra glared briefly at him before focusing back on their assigned tasks. Mora had never felt so insignificant before now, and he craved the dark recesses of his library. "I will manage."

"Magnus didn't…?"

At the mention of his name, the twisted monstrosity roared and swung an arm out. It caught Kyne in the stomach, but she found her feet quickly after being thrown.

"No. I'm not certain what he drew from me, but…"

A grin spread across Shor's face, one that was painfully familiar yet felt so distant. "You booby-trapped your mantle."

"I… Yes."

"And, they call me a trickster." Shor looked almost proud.

"Lorkhaaan!" roared Magnus. The snake-centipede monster had finally noticed that Shor was no longer on the throne. That he was no longer feeding its demented bulk.

"Shi-" The chain rematerialized around Shor's throat and began dragging the god backward. His hands flew to his throat as he braced against the pull. His boots slowly lost their grip, and he was steadily reeled in.

"Dibella! I'm sure you can replant the garden. Make sure Lorkhan doesn't make it back to that chair!" Kyne was beginning to look tired.

"We're standing in all that's left!" Dibella answered. "Unless you want to lose what footing you have…"

"Fuck!"

Mora rose shakily to his feet. He pushed himself forward, his limbs exhausted, his magic feeling depleted with the wards cutting off his power from Oblivion. But, somehow he managed. He reached into the shadows of his robe, pulled Jyggalag's greatsword from it, and raised the heavy blade above his head. Mora brought the greatsword down on the ethereal chain, it snapping under Jyggalag's steadfast enchantment.

With a slight flailing of his arms, Shor barely stopped himself from falling first into the floor. “I won’t thank you,” Shor said with a smirk, the shared reminiscence not going missed.

“Nor did I think you would,” Mora responded in kind.

Shor laughed. The sound was oddly reassuring this time.

"Alright. Let's see what I have left in this tired body." Shor made a gesture to roll up imaginary sleeves before he popped his knuckles. He stretched, a strange exuberance in his motions as if he had finally been freed from a millenia in shackles.

Mora wondered briefly what sort of reaction Shor would have should the Aedra be dropped back into his true body - the one that remained cleft in twain, left to drift in the night sky above Tamriel.

On the barest breath, Shor held out a hand and whispered something unheard. Sovngarde itself strained to head his command, struggling from within the bonds Magnus had bound it in.

"Lorkhan…!" simultaneously warned both Kyne and Dibella. Both of the other Aedra did not take to the added strain Shor was putting on the crumbling realm.

Their warning only drew further amusement to the once God-king, his smile wide and infectious. "I'll be done in a sec!" True to his word, whatever he was doing finished within the moment. His hand closed around a hefty two-headed ax, his arm just barely dipping with its balanced weight. He twirled it deftly, each bladed end slashing through the air as he did so, and seemed pleased with how it handled.

“Lorkhan! Stop showing off and help!” Kyne landed close. Close enough that Mora could tell she was scowling at the two of them.

"Aye, Ma'am!"

"I will cut that cocky thing of yours off, Lorkhan," growled Kyne.

He saluted her, then joined at her side. His smile dropped as he drew closer to Magnus, his expression instead turning something more complicated. Taking on a rather relaxed stance, Shor propped his weapon up along his shoulder blades. “Now, come on Mag. Can’t we talk about this?”

The Et’Ada roared and swung out, unleashing bolts of electrified magic as he did so. 

It raised the hair on Mora's head and he had to quickly shuffle back a few paces to avoid being struck.

"LorkhaN!" Magnus screamed as the Hall's tapestries lit on fire from the blackened fire magic he had begun tossing around.

Shor weaved through the destruction, was lifted up by Kyne where he needed the extra boost. He seemed oddly determined to finish things, and it took Mora a few seconds to see why himself. 

The Hall itself had begun peeling away. Small chunks of stone and mortar ripped from their resting places to be swallowed by the abyss of Aetherius. 

"Mag!" hollered Shor.

The Et'Ada swung out again, this time catching Shor. Magnus' hand crushed Shor up against one wall, the entire Hall shaking with the impact. "LiTtLe PuPpeT… WhY dO yOu tRy tO reSiST?"

Shor's struggles to escape, momentarily halted. It was as if a bucket of icy water had been dumped on him, and everyone stopped to stare.

The voice didn't belong to Magnus.

Shor yelled soon after, a deep primal sound that shook everyone down to their cores. His muscles shook as he tried to pull free. Black veins bulged up on his arms, and his eyes were full of murderous rage.

Magnus laughed, some deep, throaty, rasping thing, and pressed Shor harder into the wall. A loud crack echoed into the Hall and Mora wasn't sure if it had been the wall or Shor's ribs breaking. 

"HoW weAK tHeY HavE mAdE yOu, PuPpeT. YoU woULd hOLd mE nO bEtTer tHaN thiS oNE…" This time Magnus did not seem pleased. He was more disgusted by Shor's efforts.

"Then get the fuck out of him!" Shor growled, fangs flashing with every punctuated word. He snarled and snapped, body brimming with his fury at Magnus.

"YOu aRe iN NO pLaCe to GiVE me oRdErs," Magnus spat in kind, though Mora was beginning to suspect this was not the Et'Ada anymore, but something far older, something far worse. "BuT, I wiLL hAvE to FiX yOu FiRsT. YoUr deFiaNCe hAs BeEn aN iRRitANt…"

"There's nothing to fix!" Shor strained, his legs kicking out in some attempt to have something to push against.

The thing piloting Magnus' body laughed. "PLot witH AuRi'eL aLL yOu wAnt, PuppET. bUt, yOU aRe MinE-"

A blue streak plowed into the side of Magnus' head, releasing his hold on Shor. "Like Oblivion he is!" shouted Kyne furiously. "The fucker is mine! Get in line." She lowly glowered the last part, eyes quickly darting to Mora to imply that he too should 'get in line'.

Magnus growled, his attention flicking between Shor and Kyne as he decided who he should deal with. 

Kyne apparently won out as she flung more of the metal feathers at him, a few landing dangerously close to his remaining eye. The giant’s eye whirled on the hawk Aedra as Magnus’ teeth ground together. Magnus, or more likely what was using Magnus’ vessel, roared in anger. Pillars ice erupted from the ground, charging ahead in a single line towards Kyne on a gesture from Mangus. 

She flew away easily, though it offered an opportunity for Magnus to attack Shor with a swinging sweep of his tail. 

It caught Shor in the middle, but he managed to take the blow surprisingly well. His arms circled the offending limb, and he was able to maintain his footing as the length of muscle attempted to throw him. He grappled with Magnus' tail as it slid across the room, carrying him with it.

"LorKhAn!!!" Magnus howled with two voices - one his normal, and the other something far more ancient. The possessed Et'Ada lifted his tail, raising Shor.

Not about to be slammed down, Shor released his grip, risking a slight free fall before he was caught by Kyne whizzing by.

"You are going easy on him, Lorkhan," chastised the hawk Aedra. "If you bothered to summon that stupid stick of yours, then use it!"

Shor laughed as he dodged the lightning laced fireball, but his smile held no joviality as his eyes danced back to Magnus. There was hesitance there. “You’re right.”

“Of course,” she scoffed haughtily, throwing Shor back towards Magnus' main bulk.

This time Shor actually moved to attack, rather than defend. He swung his ax, aiming for Magnus' left, and blind, side. A wall of rock received the blow, shattering under the weight of ax and Aedra. 

Magnus twisted to address the breach, just as Kyne swooped in with another flurry of her feather-shaped knives. This time they stuck Magnus' serpentine tail, giving the patch a slight porcupine appearance.

The snake Et'Ada howled with his rage, his mass swelled, his tail stretching out into the split space beyond Sovngarde.

Shor swung again, and again Magnus raised an enchanted barrier to take the hit in his place. Shor broke through that, and the one after that, all the while Kyne was peppering Magnus with more summoned knives.

Mora was almost jealous of how well they worked together.

Kyne taking advantage of Shor's brute strength to penetrate whatever barrier Magnus summoned, and Shor taking advantage of Kyne's speed to deal damage where he was too slow.

The battle was going too well.

"EnoUgH!!!" roared the thing stealing Magnus' throat. Magnus' marble grey skin bled black, the inky ichor oozing from every orifice. The air buzzed, and the hair on the back of Mora's neck prickled to attention. Then, something akin to a wave… a sort of pulse spread rapidly from Magnus. One. Two. Three. The pulses picked up speed, picked up intensity. It went from just ruffling Mora's hair to actually pushing Mora back, he tried to remain standing, planting Jyggalag's sword in the ground to withstand each pounding wave. But, even that failed to withstand long, the blade slicing into the floor and sliding back.

Kyne had been knocked from the air, and Shor had been pummeled similarly, Magnus even taking advantage and grabbing both to press them against the stone ground.

"YoU aRE DoNe, PuPPeT…" the thing growled at Shor.

Shor pushed at the giant hand, thick, corded muscles bulging at the strain. His face still held no such defeat.

Gigantic, malformed arms strained as they pressed down harder, stealing the movement Shor had managed to gain. "yOU. arE. dONe."

Beside Kyne groaned, a distinct panic creeping into her face from the increasing weight pressing down on her. She would have kept her bones light, hollow, things that would aid in speed. Shor was supposed to make up for that lack of strength, and now, on her own, it was her weakness.

The sound pulled both Shor's and the thing's attention, a deranged grin forming on the latter's face. "KeEp StrUgGLinG. i WiLL mErELy crUsH HeR wiTH yOuR eVERy EfForT."

Mora saw the fight fade from Shor's eyes, even as Kyne threw her own derogatory opinions towards Magnus, continuing to claw and struggle against the stone hand crushing her. She hadn't given up so easily. "Don't you dare, Lorkhan. Don't you fucki-" The shrill scream erupted from her lips unbidden.

That was when the fight faded completely from Shor, his body becoming limp where it was still trapped. A reedy, "Stop… Please…" was on his lips.

Magnus shifted at those words, and the screams ceased. "ReADy tO cOncEde?"

When Mora saw that Shor was ready to give up, to give in to this thing… Mora clenched his fists and dragged himself to his feet, Jyggalag's sword giving him the strength to do so.

_ Shor… Rowan would not die here! This thing would not take him! _

Mora raised Jyggalag's blade and brought it down without a second thought. 

Silence reigned as Magnus' tail was severed from his body, the sound only accompanied by the thud of Shor falling free. 

The Et'Ada toppled forward with a guttural sound on his tongue, his multiple arms shooting out to balance himself. Magnus looked more akin to a spider… an ant… and when Shor quickly snatched up Jyggalag's blade to pin Magnus through the torso, Magnus looked even more like an insect.

Another part of the Hall collapsed, but this time it was due to Dibella no longer supporting it with her own power. She stumbled from the sudden release, then ran to Shor's side, leaving Mara to try and hold what still remained of Sovngarde together.

Dibella shook her head, pleading with her husband. "Please don't… He's still my brother…"

“He’s gone,” was all Shor spared her before trying to push past her, picking up his fallen ax with a tired effort. “I’m sorry.”

She grabbed his arm and held his gaze.

"I cannot help him," Shor admitted, his eyes casting a despairing look at where the remains of Et'Ada was clawing at the ground, his long, lower body twitching where it had been severed at his hips. "I don't have the power to."

Dibella's lip quivered as she tried and failed to look Shor in the eye. Eventually, her eyes fell away defeated.

Whatever Magnus had become, Mora was unsure. His mind refused to provide an answer, as if afraid that even trying to conjure the recorded writings would turn the thing's attention onto Mora.

"I'm sorry, Mag. Let me end this…" Like putting down a rabid dog, Shor swung his ax upon the Et'Ada staring up at him. The ax landed with a wet squelch, and the Et'Ada collapsed with the weapon still lodged in his skull. Black oozed from the wound, draining the onyx veins that had spread across Magnus' body. Shor didn't at all seem surprised by the discoloration. It was almost as if he had expected it.

"Lorkhan…" Kyne had come up beside him, an arm hooked across her front. She touched his arm with her other hand, trying to tug him away from the pool flowing out from the Et'Ada. 

But, Shor didn't heed her. 

He stepped forward and into it, the black suddenly leaping up in tiny, hungry tendrils that coiled around his feet and ankles. They burrowed into him, penetrating leather and flesh just the same. Black lines crisscrossed his skin, and concern flared in all the watching faces that he would be taken over just as Magnus had. But, the lines faded, and Shor stopped wincing.

"What was-"

"That?" Shor interrupted. His feet were still painted crimson even though the wounds had healed where the black worms had dug into him. "An old… condition. Magnus… caught it… somehow, and it likely reacted to our Daedra friend's mantle… or what he got of Mora's mantle…" 

Shor paused, brought his palm to his chest, then closed his eyes. A slight grimace grew on his face as he drew something out of his body. A black orb, near-identical to what Magnus had stolen from Mora. 

"This is yours," he said, offering it out.

Hesitantly, Mora took it back, but he didn't immediately bond with it again. Mora was used to his blood, his tendrils, his essence, being black. But, the pool that had come from Mag was darker than that. The fact that Shor had been the one to possess what was stolen from Mora, then to return it, made Mora shudder. What was stolen of his mantle had touched that… thing, that black thing. Mora's mantle, even just a fraction of it, had mingled with that thing.

He would have to consult with Namira before he risked taking it back into himself. The darkness had felt like her, it had felt like her birth when she was born from Lorkhan's emptied shell - not as empty as anyone had thought.

Shor offered a light pat to his shoulder as he continued walking past to stand in front of their rescuers, in front of his wives. 

"Husband.", "Love.", "Asshole." said Shor's wives simultaneously. 

Both Dibella and Mara shared a slight grin with each other, before turning it on Kyne. A blue flush took up her pastel-aqua skin as she felt the sudden need to adjust her scarf over the bottom half of her face. She coughed loudly then waves her arms when that failed to dissuade the shared expression of knowing mirth.

The sight of it all made Mora feel even more out of place - like he was caught up in one of Sheogorath's delusions, a mere bystander to a play.

He didn't want to stay anymore. He wanted to leave.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! Finally at the end of this! Sorry for the wait. I hope those of you who made it this far enjoyed it ^^

They had found the dog. More specifically, Dyus had found his dog. 

Apparently, the abomination couldn't just disappear back into the ether. It stubbornly clung to the remnants of its miserable life.

"Master…" Dyus started hesitantly. Jyggalag had anticipated the question Dyus was bound to answer. He was surprised it had taken the small man this long to ask it, yet knowing his general hatred of his creation, the hesitation was within expectation.

"Ask me, Dyus," he said on an exhausted sigh. He could only waste away the time until Moralove returned, hopefully with Rowan in tow. He had promised to bring Rowan back.

"How do we…? Can we…?" Dyus was fidgeting with his robe, his eyes staring at his shoes. The man had lost all decorum as Jyggalag's chamberlain and was asking on behalf of himself. Dyus wanted the dog back, and not sealed to a stone effigy the townsfolk had made of the "legendary" white fox that dwelled within the forest - currently appropriately decorated with the occasional bird dropping.

"I can," Jyggalag answered, shifting in his bed to try and sit up. Finding the action awkward with one arm and a stump, Dyus helped him. "I store some power in my hair. It is not much, but it should provide a strong enough core for whatever vessel you choose for the dog."

Dyus sat stunned as if he couldn't contemplate his lord offering such a part of himself. Jyggalag could see the countless hours both he and Dyus had spent grooming the strands to perfection, and the careful eons it had taken to grow to its current length.

Jyggalag moved first, pointing to a wall of display weaponry. "The small blade should suffice. I wish you to do the honors."

Again, Dyus took a little longer to react. He sat blinking as Jyggalag's words slowly registered, before lurching to his feet and trying to calmly walk towards the ebony dagger Jyggalag had pointed to. 

He returned with it in his hands and knelt beside Jyggalag once more. Dyus sat with the blade across his thighs staring at it and the responsibility he had been bestowed with. He swallowed, then took hold of the blade again. "If you would allow me, Master."

Jyggalag nodded.

Jyggalag had felt the first cut more than heard the soft slicing of his hair. He felt the sudden disconnect of a bit of his stored power. 

Behind him, Dyus respectfully laid out the first few cut strands, the pile barely thicker than a finger's width.

He looked at them, and Dyus set his small hands into his lap instead of continuing. He was staring at his trembling hands, a continued conflicted expression on his round face.

"Dyus," Jyggalag said softly. "I do not mind. I do this for you."

"I…" Dyus chewed his lower lip. His head refused to come up as if hung low. "I do not deserve this, Master…"

Jyggalag said nothing, at least immediately. "You will need more than that…"

Dyus' eyes drifted to the pile already cut. He hummed an agreement, not wanting to break the silence with words. The man was wanting, but he was afraid of taking.

Jyggalag held out his hand. “The knife, Dyus.”

Hesitating, Dyus stared at the knife still clasped in his small hands. He knew what it would mean to give up the knife, or at least thought of what it could mean. But, Dyus eventually did, a sort of defeated aura about him.

Jyggalag took the knife back, then did something to surprise his chamberlain. Tucking the knife between his lips, Jyggalag quickly gathered all his hair into one thick bundle, then before Dyus would dare say something at the very least, he grabbed the knife again and sliced through his hair - as difficult as it was single-handed.

Stunned, Dyus sat staring with slack-jaw. "M-M-Master!" he stuttered, his tone boarding on horrified with what Jyggalag had done.

“Dyus,” said Jyggalag calmly. “Would you even it out? I am afraid in my haste, I have left it uneven.”

With shaking fingers, Dyus reached out and took the blade from Jyggalag, though Dyus' hand could not return to his side. Not immediately. He was still staring at the cut hair fallen about Jyggalag's front.

Seeing his chamberlain's continued hesitance, Jyggalag tied up the bundle with a bit of summoned magic and pushed it into Dyus' lap. "I have no use of it. Please dispose of it, Dyus. After you help me fix my hair."

Solemnly, Dyus made a small sound of agreement. He took the enchanted strands and placed them carefully beside the ones cut earlier. He stared at them for a few seconds before his hands came up to even out the hair Jyggalag had so crudely cut.

"You have never once failed me, Dyus," Jyggalag stated into the depressing silence. "It would not be odd for me to reward such loyalty."

Dyus made another noise, this one sounding even smaller.

Jyggalag turned, finding that the small man had started crying. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and were wept on silent sobs. "Thank you, Lord Jyggalag. Thank you…" Dyus looked even smaller as he curled forward, his head brushing the floor. “Thank you.”

****

Jyggalag was ready even before Dyus had made the announcement.

Moralove had returned. 

Jyggalag rushed forward, his own condition be damned. For some reason, Moralove did not carry Rowan’s scent on him. It did not bode well, and Jyggalag found himself in need of some sort of mainstay. His fingers curled tightly into Moralove’s robes. “Who took Rowan from us?” He left his other question unasked. 

_ Why didn’t you bring him back…? _

* * *

Mora wasn't sure he knew the answer. Magnus… or that thing… Given some time to think and research brought answers - though not necessarily anything pleasant. Part of that thing had been used to curse Jyggalag to Sheogorath - that much he was certain. Considering the brutal nature of his fellow Princes, the extraction from a confused and maddened Magnus could have been incomplete. 

_ Who knows how long that piece of… of… Si-  _ Mora's thoughts refused to give that creature a name for fear he would summon it back.

His eyes drifted to the shaking hands curled into his robes, to the Daedric Prince who wanted so badly to know why Rowan hadn't returned.

_ Your brother has been slain. His spirit finally laid to rest. I’m only sorry we could not save him. _

“They have been dealt with,” was all Mora could offer. 

Jyggalag’s dark eyes searched Mora’s face. He, currently she, wanted more than that. Wanted more than Mora’s deflection. But, Mora would not share more. Instead, Jyggalag asked, “Where is Rowan?”

That question was even harder to answer. Mora wasn’t even sure if he could find an answer. Shor hadn’t come back with him. Shor had stayed with his reunited wives to repair Sovngarde after their battle had left it in shambles, its deceased, mortal souls struggling to find refuge. He would likely remain for some-

“I’m here, Jygg,” called an achingly familiar voice.

Both Daedric Princes turn and find… not Rowan, but Shor.

Confusion spread quickly across Jyggalag’s face. His eyes danced from Mora, then back to Shor. "You are not Rowan," Jyggalag said accusingly.

Shor nodded slowly. "But, he is here." The Aedra patted his wide chest.

"No." Jyggalag refused to believe it.

"It's… It's true, Jyggy," said Mora hesitantly.

A betrayed look dashed across Jyggalag's face and she backed away from Mora. 

"Jygg, I am Rowan. He- I. We cannot be separated. His mortal heart-"

"Liars!" he hissed.

Mora exchanged a look of concern with Shor, but Jyggalag must have misinterpreted it. She retreated another step from them both, then fled before either could stop him.

On Jyggalag's departure, a hawk casually glided down from the sky and landed on Shor's shoulder. Sharp talons dug into his fox pelt. He reached up and gave her a quick scratch under her chin, where Kyne quickly snapped at his fingers with her even sharper beak. It drew a small smile back to the fox Aedra's face, but Shor's usual joviality had been quite mellowed.

"I should try to explain things…" started Mora, winding his hands together slowly. He didn't quite like the fixed glare of the Hawk's eyes on him.

"No," rumbled Shor. His voice had lost almost all of its divine quality with his weakening. "It would probably be better that I try…" The Aedra's form shifted, growing smaller, his horns shrinking back as his pelt seemingly melded back into his skin.

Now, it looked like Rowan was standing once more before him.

"Please don't hurt him, Shor. You have taken so much from him already."

He chuckled sadly. "Jygg won't let me near him otherwise, Mora."

"Just… Just give him some time first. He will need time to think about it. You know how he is."

Shor smiled with Rowan's stolen face. "I know."

* * *

“Jygg? What’s wrong?”

Jyggalag supposed he should have been happy that Rowan was back. That somehow Rowan had come back to them, despite Shor's words and similar appearance _. _

But, there was so much weighing on his mind. He was far from normal, and immensely further from the perfection he always sought. It had been hard enough to regrow his arm in the weeks of Rowan's absence. Even now it was numb, sometimes no more useful than a plank of wood. He supposed at least he could use it now… But, then there was… his hair… It had taken eons to grow out to its old length. All that latent power wasted bringing back the dog, and it wasn’t even grateful. 

“Jygg?” 

There came a light touch to his shoulder, a blue eye looking at him with concern. His other eye remained covered, the eye patch… different and reeking of Aedric magicks. “You smell…”

Rowan’s head tilted to the side. “Sorry. Mora said the same thing.” He turned his head to sniff his shoulder. He shrugged when he didn’t discover anything different, and oddly Jyggalag noticed that the heavy earthen scent had lessened. "So, what's the real problem?"

Jyggalag sniffed back a tear. His damned female form was so much more susceptible to his emotions. "It is ugly."

"Ugly?"

"My hair… It used to be so long…"

"Your… hair… But then, why are you female?"

"I am smaller like this. It appears longer." Jyggalag thought that would have been obvious.

"Jygg." Rowan's hands cupped Jyggalag's chin. Like this, those hands could easily cradle his head. The contact put him strangely at ease - not that he would tell the stupid Nord that. "You are so damned adorable. I want to hide you away somewhere like the jewel you are."

Jyggalag could feel his face flushing. "I-Idiot," he muttered under his breath. His arms reached up behind Rowan's neck and he laid his head on the Nord's chest. There was no heartbeat, not that Jyggalag expected there to be. Shor couldn't recreate what he had lost. "I am sorry, Rowan. I should have fought harder to save you."

"You fought hard enough," Rowan assured him.

"Dumb…"

"Huh…?"

"You dumb Nord." 

_ Don't leave me again… _

Jyggalag nuzzled into his chest, subconsciously needing to mark Rowan with his scent to mask what remained of the Aedric stench. 

"So, are you going to hide me away…?" he whispered into Rowan's chest.

Unfortunately, the smell only worsened. 

"Is that an invitation?" Rowan was looking at him with two glowing eyes, the eyepatch mysteriously vanished. A blink later, and a pair of large horns were curling back over his head. A fox's pelt was covering his hair and the tops of his tanned shoulders. The pale scar across the center of his chest was obvious now, no longer just a discolored streak.

Jyggalag frowned. "Not with you," he said, pushing Shor away.

The Aedra laughed. "I am literally the same person, just more… complete."

"Not with you," reiterated Jyggalag, turning away.

"Jygg!" Shor shouted at his back, the Aedric scent lessening with the distance. "Come back… I’ll behave…"

* * *

Shor's teeth clenched as he watched Jyggalag walk, and a sigh stole from his lips once the Daedra was out of sight. 

He knew what the Daedra wanted. It was so painfully obvious, but he was powerless to fulfill the unspoken wish. 

Rowan had been a fluke. Countless shards of his soul combined to make the Nord. Countless more currently intermingled to complete… Shor.

The Rowan Jyggalag wanted was simply… gone. 

He ran a hand through his pelt, smoothing back his pointed ears until they lay flat across the top of his head. "Damn… Damn… Dammit!" Shor felt torn and useless. He wanted the pain in his chest to stop.

_ "Shor…" _ There was a light touch to his shoulder as the soft voice crept into his mind.

His hand fell atop Mara's.

"What is it, Mara?" He forced a grin to his face.

_ "You're hurting…"  _

The smile slipped from his face, a tired expression taking its place. "What have I said about hunting through my thoughts?"

_ "Not to. But, I would hardly be an appropriate wife if I listened to everything you told me to…" _

Shor sighed again as he gave her hand a squeeze as his shoulders sagged. "What do I do, Mara? What does Toshi know?"

_ "Akatosh has been quiet. He knows you must follow your heart. Any direction he could offer would only hurt in the long run…" _

“That’s...” This time his smile was smaller, but it was far more genuine. “I’ll try…”


End file.
